


Of sweet wine and sweeter memories.

by StarbornWarrior



Series: King &. Lionheart [2]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Drunken Kissing, Drunkenness, Gilbert having yet another gay crisis, Historical Hetalia, Historical References, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 07:47:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 662
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27467434
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarbornWarrior/pseuds/StarbornWarrior
Summary: After a night of drunken revelry, Gilbert has a bit of trouble remembering what happened the night before. Short drabble and inspired by one (1) passage from Robert Asprey's bio on Frederick the Great.
Relationships: Frederick the Great/Prussia (Hetalia)
Series: King &. Lionheart [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002765
Comments: 1
Kudos: 8





	Of sweet wine and sweeter memories.

Last night was a blur.

His memories are jumbled mess of raucous laughter and various snatches of lively conversation that he can’t remember the words to for the life of him, mixed with the lingering smell of wine and tobacco that had clung to his clothes. Gilbert wrinkled his nose and wearily glanced down at the front of his coat that was riddled with traces of snuff and… _God knows what else._

The Prussian nation gave soft groan, cradling his head in his hand as he slumped forward onto the dining table — _That was the last time he was going to let himself get dragged out for “ a couple of drinks ” with the crown prince’s friends, that’s for sure._

But there was another memory in the back of his mind, one that was even harder to get a grip of ; so much so that Gilbert had trouble telling whether it actually happened or if his mind was making things up. Whenever his thoughts would start to drift towards it, it was almost as if a floodgate opened in his chest ; filling him with a warmth that spread all the way to the tips of his fingers. It made his heart flutter and his lips tingle with an almost electric buzz — If he thought about it hard enough, Gilbert was certain he could almost taste the bittersweet bite of wine on them. Absently, he pursed his lips, almost as though he was trying to find a hint of that flavour again.

The ending note of that night was of him apologizing between hiccups and giggles to the poor innkeeper for all the mess and noise that they made, paying the man a generous sum of hush money for the trouble, and finally having to half - carry / half - drag Prince Frederick back home. He remembered that bit well enough — The playful banter that was practically bordering on nonsensical given how much they’d both had to drink, the sneaking through the back entrance and hoping that none of the stationed guards would catch them snooping about. What came after is when his recollection started to get a little… _Hazy._

Gilbert’s fingers tightened their grip around the warm cup of coffee in his hands ( _apparently it was supposed to be good for hangovers_ ), feeling that familiar lurch of… _Anticipation ?_ _Excitement ?_ He didn’t know. He remembered stumbling through the back door way and into the dark kitchens ; remembered the lilt of his prince’s voice still laughing about how the Prince of Brunswick almost fell off the table in half slurred French ; remembered his own shushed yet hearty chuckle in response. He was quite sure there was more that happened in between, but his brain seemed eager to skip all of that and get right to the next part.

While there was no solid image in Gilbert’s mind, what he did have was a blurry recollection of sensations and emotions that swirled around in his head like a whirlwind. Fingers laced between his own, a hand trailing up his arm before finally settling on his shoulder ; the tension that welled up in him that made his breath hitch ; a gentle touch tracing his jaw and grasping his chin ; the feeling of something that was soft and warm, and at the same time _curious and tentative pressing against his lips which made him feel as though sparks were running through his veins, prickling under his skin like tiny little fireworks —- !!_

Gilbert gasped, straightening up in his seat as though he’d just remembered that he needed to breathe. His cheeks were warm and sure enough the Prussian’s face was flushed a very noticeable shade of pink.

Kissed him.

_**Fritz had kissed him.** _

_Or did he ?_ He grumbled aloud, placing his head onto the wooden surface as if that would help him deal with his frustration better. Really, the only way to confirm anything was to ask the prince himself.

_He didn’t know if he was ready for that just yet._

**Author's Note:**

> "In late September, in accordance with the king's wish, he had entertained Prince Charles of Brunswick, who was passing through. He failed to add that to make up for drinking only very little, they had made a lot of noise and thoroughly torn up an inn" ( Asprey, p. 83 )
> 
> That's the quote that kicked this short little ficlet off! I get a serious kick out of imagining Gilbert being dragged along to all the wild happenings his prince had a habit of getting caught up in. I also have serious doubts that they didn't drink much given the reported amount of noise and chaos they caused at the inn but whatever you say, Fritz.


End file.
